I'm not sure why I'm fascinated with the gaining and losing of light this time of year. Yesterday was the winter solstice, the least amount of daylight we get in a year. This morning I looked up the sunrise and sunset on my weather channel app on my phone to see what we had gained, just one day later.

The morning is the same with a 7:53 sunrise, but we gained two minutes in the evening today at 4:20. It doesn't seem like a lot, but it will start to come back quickly by the beginning of the year.

I don't mind the dark, though. For me it makes it feel like a time to slow down and contemplate life, which is a good thing to have this time of year when we tend to get whipped into a holiday frenzy. It's a good time to sit back and contemplate the reason for the season.

I had this lapel pin years ago. I think I gave it to someone who loved it. Another reason for the season. It's a poignant reminder that two worlds can collide and get along.

I can tend to get stressed this time of year. It helps to sit back and remember that Christmas will happen whether I'm ready or not and it will ultimately be fine. But self-inflicted stress still happens and the need to dial back can come crashing through in different forms for each individual.

I melted down to my husband. He's a man, he wants to fix it, so like the Knight in Shining Armor he can be he did. We came up with a new Christmas Day menu that didn't require me to cook, he called his sister, she was fine with it, because the reality is, it's not about the food, it's about being with the people you love.

Soon in my husband's extended family, there are going to be significant changes on the horizon. Our time on earth is short, it's time to simplify and rejoice that we are together another year.

And that is the reason for the season.

If the cat and the bird can slow down and share a meal and a fire in harmony, so can we humans.

I spent last evening with my former bunco group. We were together for eleven years, then some moms went and got lives and started working outside the home again. I can probably speak for my biggest fan from the bunco group (because she still reads my blog every day) and ask them what that does for the rest of us who don't have lives outside our children?

I remember when we started the group. Though I came in about a year or so after they had started, because not knowing what bunco was (it's a parlor game) or that I needed to bring money (like good Catholics we enjoy a good gambling game) I had no idea such a thing went on in our little mom and tots coffee clatch.

After ten years, moms started dropping like flies. Apparently, they were out working every day and didn't want to go out for fun at night because they were tired from working. I had taken a year off right before then because I was working at night lifeguarding and when I came back into the group they had switched from eating hors devoures to eating a whole dinner because some of the moms were coming right from work.

Shortly after that is when things started to go bad. I don't think it was because I had rejoined the group, but you never know, I often feel like a leave a swath of destruction. Anyway, the monthly party finally broke up when the hostesses had to find more substitutes than original players. Party poopers.

At church a couple weeks ago I ran into (she's okay) one of the gals and she said, "We should all get together." I said, "We always say that." Then another one of the gals happened by and had the same exchange with her. Having that said twice in less than ten minutes caused a lot of adult embarrassment, which is different from adolescent embarrassment in that we get shamefully too caught up in life to have a life of our own. So after mass, the three of us stood there and made a date for a party without the bunco, but with our annual Christmas exchange that hasn't been annual for years, though we always say we are going to do it. We figured at least there would be three of us.

Nine out of twelve made it to the party. It was great catching up with those who made it; the ones who didn't should just step back and take a look at where they've gone wrong in life that they can't make time for the bunco group once a year (just kidding, we missed them).

There you have it. A night out with the gals and I got a Starbuck's card to boot. Merry Christmas to my old compadres (as in former, not elderly), may your Christmas be merry and bright - and to you Merry reader, too.

​Maybe we can actually make it an annual thing if not more often. But we always say that, don't we?

I read a quote several days ago that was something along the lines of 80% of dads don't know what their kids are getting for Christmas until the children open them. They get to be surprised right along with the kids. The statistic may have even been 90 or more percent, but I don't think it was real, just a thing someone made up to make all the mothers in the world groan their understanding.

I was recently accused of husband bashing by one of my readers and I'd like to respond: I love my husband very much, we get along very well, and rarely argue, but the fact of the matter is we handle life differently, which can be funny. I express the quirks of the trade of being parents and how our differences often clash in the most loving and humorous ways. My intention is to let other parents know they are not alone in their frustration over their mate's or kid's actions; people have written whole books on the subject. And in our household, I'm the writer, so I put my family's lives out there; but it's important to note that my husband and children are always informed and give their consent. One of the best things about my marriage is neither my husband nor I take life so seriously we can't laugh at ourselves when things go slightly awry.

As far as being the chief gift buyer and wrapper, it's not that I'm intentionally keeping the information from my husband, but it's not something he's really interested in. I think he likes to be surprised, even with the kids’ gifts, and he really did marry me because I was willing to run our lives. My husband is an easy going guy and he often sits back and watches my frenzy because it is my personal chaos, then he'll step in before I implode. Someone has to be the voice of reason, and it's never me. I run the house: cooking, grocery shopping, paying bills, and yes, Christmas shopping. When I get overwhelmed and put on my disgruntled wife and mother persona, he takes me out for dinner and listens to my woes.

I'm fine with the gifting situation because one of the things I enjoy about being a wife and mother is the planning; although it’s also one of the worst things about my life, too (here's a moment for a collective groan from those who do all the planning). However, the older I get, the more I understand that everything will always be fine; Christmas comes whether I feel I'm ready or not, there will be something to eat even if a recipe doesn't turn out perfect, and my husband comes home from work every day no matter my mood (though I try to warn him in advance if it's particularly foul).

After I read the quote about fathers being somewhat absent from gift planning, I decided to pull him into the loop this year to help me finish up the last of it. As we shopped I wondered why I tended to take over such things, he was helpful in between his stories of car projects. It could be that I love surprising everyone with my well-thought out choices, but it's more likely I have unresolved control issues. Whatever the reason, 'tis the season and my husband will most likely still be surprised when our kids open their Christmas presents.

I'm so glad I got a chance to run most of my errands yesterday. I think it snowed a bit last night. The roads don't look that great or if nothing else it looks cold outside and I'm glad not to be going out in it.

Oddly enough, as cold as it's been the nectar in the hummingbird feeder hasn't frozen. I did recently read that they need a higher concentrate of sugar water in the winter to keep warm. They eat a lot because of the energy they expend buzzing their wings and now and in the winter they need even more because of the cold. Obviously, there isn't much foliage for them to eat right now; although my daughter and I did read that they will eat bugs during these months.

The hummingbird feeder is a constant wonder of nature, albeit a source of conflict for the hummingbirds. There are turf wars always going on, though when it begins to get dark, they seems to drop the pretense of space and will all feed at once to load up for the night.

​This morning I was wondering if they weren't eating becasue the nectar was frigid (not in the unwelcome, don't touch me sense, but in the too cold, brain freeze sense), then I opened my window and poked the feeder to see if it was frozen and two suddenly appeared to protect their sugar treasure (I know a few humans who do this, too). After that they started feeding. Here's a "moment of nature for you.

And apparently I spoke too soon. My mother beckons so I must go out. I will drag my feet as long as possible. I turned the news on to see what the weather is like out there and discovered there was a whipped cream shortage.... good thing I scored three cans when I was out yesterday.

I don't watch the news often, but it was a fortuitous circumstance that I loaded up on whip, because what I really mean by "getting all my errands done" was that I got the pie. What's pumpkin pie without the whip cream? It's like an espresso without the crème, peanut butter without the jelly, a hummingbird without its sugar water.

This Special Report is for my Brother-in-law. I want to wish him a happy birthday. He is 70 years young today.

We visited him yesterday and though he is very ill with ALS and was unable to talk to us, his gentle spirit and caring shone through. He was able to communicate with us on an iPad. I can't even explain how wonderful it was to see him and what an honor it was for my whole family to spend that time with him. It was a gift to us.

I hope he had a great birthday today in spite of his ailment. He is truly an inspiration to us all.

I'm not really sure why I'm so delayed in doing anything today. There was that moment last night when I had to decide if I was going to get up every day at 5:45 or just the days I swim. I decided not to set an alarm for today and see where it led me. Eight thirty is where it led me. I realized I'm usually up at least an hour before that, but often because the dog wakes me with her barking.

She sleeps in my youngest daughter's room and used to sleep all night and into the early afternoon along with my daughter's vampire hours. I got her teeth cleaned a couple weeks ago and we had to soften her food for two weeks because she had three extractions and stitches. Ever since she's been excited to have a meal. This is a dog that has never really bounced around for her dinner and only ate when all the planets lined up in an order she deemed worthy of a meal. So my daughter and I decided, at fifteen years old, she deserved to have a soft, warm meal, with gravy.

We had stopped at a pet supply place for canned food and learned that it doesn't have the nutrients dry food has. But they showed us dehydrated pet food, which is nutrient rich with warm water added and reconstituted into a mash. I bought some that was thankfully on sale and the dog lapped it up like she hadn't eaten in years. That lasted about five days, then she suddenly decided she didn't like it anymore. That's when we started softening her regular dry dog food. It's now the highlight of her day.

The problem is, she's been getting up at all hours of the morning wanting to have her breakfast, which wakes my daughter who usually has just gone to bed. She's getting a routine down now where she softens the food before she goes to bed at 3:00 am, but makes the dog wait at least until 6:30 am to eat (with perhaps a bathroom break between that time). If the food is on the counter, I know the dog hasn't eaten yet, so when she gets up for the morning, she either is ready to eat or ready to eat and go out or ready to just go out.

I have no idea what went down this morning. I heard my daughter at 7:30. I wasn't up because I decided to loll in bed. When I finally arose at 8:30, the food dish was down and empty and the dog is no where to be found. So she must've gone back to bed with my daughter.

None of this has anything to do with why I'm so late getting anything done or maybe taking all this time to ponder all these mundane things during the Christmas season is why I'm so late getting started. All the normal stuff has to get done along with the holiday preparations.

​I guess it's list time and I just have to start from where I am right now. I can't go back and start earlier now that I'm here. So first things first... the mail.

I hope you're sitting down right now, because I have an important announcement - I got up with an alarm today... on purpose. This last week has been a struggle for me because of the weather. My normal walk has been treacherous, so I didn't exercise from Monday until Sunday. I was extemely grumpy and agitated all week.

I've decided that since the weather isn't going to cooperate with me this year because of el Nina or Nino or whatever Spanish weather pattern we're in this year, I had to take a drastic course of action. Thus waking up with an alarm at 5:45 to go catch a lap swim at the local pool. It's less than a mile from my house, so really there's no excuse.

Here is a little known fact for all you keeping track. I was 37 years old and I got my lifeguarding certification and actually guarded that morning swim. My kids were around three and five. In those days it started at 6:00 and ended at 7:30. Now it starts at 5:30 and ends at 7:00. However, I learned things from my experience guarding that swim some thirteen years ago (since I quit) - everyone gets there when it opens and everyone is gone in thirty or forty five minutes.

When I got there this morning, there were only three other people in the pool and I closed it down as a lone swimmer. I felt like an old person telling the people working there, "When I started guarded this swim some sixteen years ago," (imagine the muffled, gutteral, shaky voice we use when we are mocking old people), "there were several old people who were cranky and didn't want to share their lane."

It got to be stressful about the time I decided I had to quit, because the county was closing pools and these old people were complaining about having to share a lane. I tried to explain to them that if we could only have one person per lane (I think there are eight lanes), we'd have to close this pool down too. They didn't care and blamed me for sending anyone to swim in their lane, and not only took the liberty to chew me out, but the others would yell at me for ruining old lady so and so's swim zen. At that time the lanes were catagorized in slow, medium, and fast swimmers.

I expect most of those people are dead by now because I think at least one of them was in her eighties. I admired them for staying in shape by swimming, but at the same time they were the bane of my existence. One of them who I happened to know is still alive because he was neighbors will my Cooking Buddy and her husband was a nice elderly man who has alzheimers now.

There was one old guy who would swim with a snorkel because he couldn't fully twist his head to breathe. One day he just stopped. I stood there above him thinking, "This is it, I have to save someone, God help me." Several seconds went by as I tried to determine whether he was in distress, then he started back up and kept plodding along with his swim. I breathed a sigh of relief because in those days I was also the lone employee in the building and he was an especially big guy. When he got out of the pool, I politely asked WTF? He had stopped to retie his swim suit.

Then there was an angry middel-aged man. He was obviously an executive somewhere and he was an aggressive swimmer. He'd plunge into the fast lane, splashing out his glory days when he was a high school champion. He had a "do you know who I am?" attitude when I'd send someone his way. I always enjoyed people who would swim with him anyway and not let him intimidate them.

When I stopped working at the pool, I couldn't afford to swim there. Plus, I felt I wasn't welcome anymore because the manager had just put me on the retirement plan and then I left. I guess I was kind of dodging him too. He was a moody sort and wasn't always pleasant to be around. ​

So I was pleasantly surprised this morning to find that life at the pool had chilled out and I was welcome to swim in any lane I wanted. All the angry, cranky, aggressive swimmers had moved on for better or worse. It still clears out within forty five minutes of opening and I should always be relatively alone. I only paid for one swim today as I put the feelers out, then bought a ten swim punch card on my way out. After those ten swims, I'll reevaluate my commitment and see if I'm responsible enough for a three-month pass.

The pool is owned by the city now instead of the county. I'm glad the atmosphere has changed and I'm not the one working there. It was nice to be back in the pool.

It's not that I haven't had anything to say the last couple days, I just haven't had a chance to sit down and write. Things keep coming up which require I leave the house in the morning. It's just that time of year when there are things to get done and places to go to get them done at.

Wednesday night I drug my family out for our annual Christmas light event - we chose the Woodland Park Zoo's Wildlights because we had never been there. Okay, I admit, I do it to finish off the grandmothers' scrapbook calendars of our year. We still had fun even though it was frigid. My mother asked why we wouldn't wait for a less cold day - well, it's winter, I'm not sure it's going to get warmer anytime soon, and at least it wasn't raining and/or icy on the roads or sidewalks.

I'd like to blame my lack of exercise this week on my busyness, but it's really the weather. It's cold and though I did indeed go walking last Tuesday, it was somewhat treacherous and a little slick in spots. I'd like to claim extra exercise points for the core workout I got tightening my sphincter while walking to keep myself upright and on guard for patches of ice. So let's just go with that and pretend it's the walk that has kept on giving so I can slide (no pun intended) the rest of this week.

But it's not just the lack of exercise that has made me spud-like this week, I've cooked potato based recipes twice. I had a hankering for scalloped potatoes and then stumbled across a recipe for a cowboy potato casserole (no cowboys were harmed in the making of that dish).

Layer half the potatoes into the bottom of prepared baking dish. Top with onion slices and add remaining potatoes. Season with salt and pepper.

Melt butter over medium heat in a saucepan. Mix in flour and salt, stirring constantly with a whisk, for one minute. Stir in milk. Cook until mixture has thickened. Add Cheddar cheese and continue stirring until melted, 30 to 60 seconds. Pour cheese sauce over potatoes and cover dish with aluminum foil.

Bake in the preheated oven until cheese sauce is bubbling and potatoes are tender, about 1 1/2 hours.

No really, cover me. It's cold outside and I need a walk. I'm even writing this at 8:30, before I go out hoping it will warm up a bit more. I've been up for an hour and a half and though the sun came up a half hour after I got up, I'm avoiding plunging into the cold. It's not like it's Alaska or anything, where it's around 13° right now. Of course, I would never go out in weather like that. In fact, I'd never get out of bed if I lived there.

Our cat is angry these days because of the weather. It snowed for awhile yesterday morning, and since I wouldn't make it stop and melt she wouldn't even put a foot out the door. She poked her nose out, turned around and curled up in my yellow chair in the living room for the remainder of the day.

This is the time of year to hibernate and I'd like to cozy up by the fire with a book all day. But the mail piling up is calling my name as well as house cleaning. Though I don't want to clean house too early before Christmas, because then I'll have to do it again right at Christmas. We need to time these things accordingly.

I'm really just wasting time right now, because obviously I have nothing earth shaking to say. So I'm going to bundle up and take the leap. The only thing that would save me now is if it was too slippery to walk - cover me, I'm going out.

My husband's birthday was on Saturday and I was determined to do right by him. I alluded to his gift last week when I was waiting for my daughters to get up so they could help me with a project for his birthday gift.

The tag says "From, yer Babee and your babies"

I Googled how to stack that. They say you can tell the worth of a man by his stack of firewood

Even though I and the kids will benefit from this firewood, it's really intended to take the stress off my husband. I thought of it as I was planning all the holiday festivities, wrapped up with our final event on New Year's Eve when we have a campfire in our backyard for our kids and their friends.

In October, I had a backyard, hot dog cookout party for my mom's birthday. My husband was stressing over finding enough wood to burn in the fire. It wasn't as big of a deal this last summer because we had been burning our old shed we replaced the summer before, but by that October birthday, we were literally down to the last post. He had to scramble to find more. I suggested he get some from the neighbors who have a fireplace in their home they use, but he was reluctant. Apparentlyl, he felt the cherry tree rounds we gave them was junk wood and we were lucky they still spoke to us. I don't argue with his obsessive ideas; I let him work through them and figure it out. Fortunately, we still had some firewood stashed in the RV.

However, getting it out of the RV started him on a whole other tangent about where we'd come up with firewood for our next camping trip in April. Firewood isn't always that easy to come by and dry firewood is even harder to procure. We've always had a cycle of getting firewood before we left whatever town we were in that had good firewood, but all our trusted places had closed down. Usually, they were homes that sold chopped wood for their children's college fund. However, we've been RVing long enough now that kids have grown up and graduated from college. It's been lean pickings the last couple years.

Sometimes when I get unique gift ideas, like giving my husband firewood for his birthday, he doesn't respond well because it's off the wall enough that he doesn't understand why I would do such a thing. There were oh so many things that could have been wrong with this gift: too much money, stacked wrong or in the wrong place, or "why do we need a whole half a cord of firewood". I was rather anxious he find this present and put my mind at ease. Not that any of those potential disasters would have changed that we now had a half a cord of firewood stacked on our back porch. I figured whatever might be wrong would eventually be resolved once we burned it all.

My fear were for naught. Once my husband found this gift, he was thrilled, dispeling all my angst. Then he said, "Why didn't you think of this before?" It reminded me of the song, "Redneck Twelve Day Days of Christmas" by Jeff Foxworthy:

Somebody done gone to the WalmartMan this the stuff I got for christmasWell you cleaned up what ya get5 flannel shirts4 big mud tires3 shotgun shells2 huntin' dogsAnd some parts to a Mustang GTThere's twelve days of christmasI know that I got it covered look over there in the cornerThat's your stuff too!Yeah

Man these ain't normal christmas presentsNo they're redneck giftsRedneck giftsYeah like if you buy you wife a pair of earings that double as fishing luresOf if you can burp the entire chorus to jingle bellsOr if you think that the nut cracker is something you did off the high diveOr if you've ever misspelled any thing in christmas lightsOr if you leave cold beer and pickled eggs for santa clausWhat's wrong with thatI never said there was something wrong with it it's just hard to beat

Chorus

Well you know you can't really call it a christmas unless you go down to the penitentary and visit your mommaYou're not lisenin to me get the car key out of your earNow I'm gunna do it for you again now listen

CHORUS(x2)

What a couple rednecks we are when a stacked pile of firewood would be the best gift ever.